What I Needed Most
by Another Writer Who Loves
Summary: Sam killed himself on November 2nd, 1999. Years later after helping Chuck and Amara reconcile in thanks Amara gives Dean what he needed the most, his little brother.
1. Chapter 1

"_Dean, you gave me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you."_

Dean wasn't sure of what to make of Amaras statement, if he was going to be honest he knew that it wasn't going to be anything good.

In his experience powerful beings like Amara and Chuck didn't exist on the same plane of him in any single way. They saw things differently and regardless of what they said the lower beings, case in point him and the angels, were something of little regard to them and could be manipulated in ways that they didn't think were manipulations.

Point of the matter, the world was no longer in danger, the sun was no longer dying, and Chuck and Amara were happy siblings again.

He was also still alive so he guessed that he should put that in the plus side but ultimately, he had been looking forward to everything ending and going out in a blaze.

He hadn't hidden the fact that he had, more or less, a death wish on the rise with each passing year. He was getting a bit more sloppy on his hunts, choosing to ignore scars and wounds on him and let them heal on their own, not caring it they were getting infected, much to the ire of the people around him.

So what if he wasn't watching what he was eating or what he was doing, or whether or not a broken rib could possibly puncture his lung? He had been on a road trip to death for a while and he was just taking a few pit stops before it.

When Rowena had created the spell and told him that he was going to die doing it he almost felt like crying in relief. This was something that needed to be done and something that no one else other than him could do. It meant that he was going to finally die and he could just stop everything.

He didn't think that he was actively suicidal, he wasn't holding a gun to his head with a single bullet and counting the empty rounds while clicking it.

Suicide was a sin after all and he had already done his time in hell the first time, forty years to be exact, and he didn't want a reprise of it, regardless of how Crowley had said he'd get the royal treatment if he ended up there.

More like Crowley would take his soul and immediately throw it out in fear of having Dean Winchester in hell again.

But to the point, he wasn't actively suicidal...he just didn't care if he lived or died on his hunts. He didn't hesitate in killing the monsters, didnt let the wendigos rip him apart or the vampires drain him completely, if he was going to go out he was going to go out fighting his best.

But he also wasn't going to be complaining as the light left his eyes and Death came to personally take his soul out for burgers somewhere.

He knew that it scared the others, Jody and co. Bobby back in the day too. Father Jim Murphy had also been concerned all those years ago, had spent hours preaching and talking to Dean to make sure that Dean wasn't about to down a bottle of jack and let himself drive off of a cliff.

A part of him wanted to take Baby with him too, she was the last good thing left in his life and it wasn't fair to her or to him to leave her behind. No one else was going to treat her as good as he did.

Or maybe Baby was meant to outlive all the Winchesters, it was a bit poetic in a way if the car made it when they didn't.

He'll see, depending on the day and what happened whether Baby was coming with him or not.

If he had to pinpoint a day in his life when everything went to shit and he automatically stopped caring whether he lived or died he could mark it down to an exact day, a day he always got black out drunk on and refused to talk about and a day that he hated down to the marrow in his bones.

November 2nd, 1999.

A part of him thought that it was another poetic thing that he was sure some people would wax and symbolize the hell out of it.

Shaking his head Dean took his phone out, grimacing when he saw that there was no signal in wherever the hell he was in.

He wasn't really sure how to call really, maybe his friends to let them know that he was in fact alive and the world wasn't going to end. Maybe find a way to get back to the bunker and collapse into his bed.

As he walked, trying to find a hint of where he was or where to go, stopping when he heard rustling up ahead, the sound of footsteps hitting the ground and breaking sticks.

He moved forward, wishing that he had some sort of weapon on him. "Hello?" he called out.

Slowly a figure of a person appeared, in the dark of the night he couldn't make out anything else about them but he could see that they had their hands up.

"Who's there?" Dean demanded, rolling his shoulders back a bit more.

The person came forward a bit more, still out of the light. "I'm not...I'm not gonna hurt you." the person, a guy, said. His voice was a bit muffled and he cleared his throat a few times.

Dean narrowed his eyes, the voice...it felt...weird, scratching at a corner of his mind. "Who are you?"

He could see the guy take a deep breath and stepped completely into the light, staring at Dean with a confused look on his face.

Dean felt his stomach drop and his heart stop for a moment, Amaras words echoing in his mind.

"_Dean, you gave me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you."_

"_I want to do the same for you."_

Right in front of him, right in fucking front of him, was none other than seventeen year old, Sam Winchester. Looking just the same as he had hours before November 2nd, 1999.

"_Dean, you gave me what I needed most."_

Sam was staring at him, head tilted slightly and hands still up in the air. There was a confused look on his face and slowly he brought his hands down, still just looking at him. "De-dean?" he asked, more than a bit uncertainty, looking over a face that was no doubt a lot older than he was used to.

"_I want to do the same for you."_

Dean stumbled forward, feeling his chest tighten and he swallowed hard. The image of finding his brothers hanging body in their motel room shot over his eyes again.

"Sammy?" he whispered, the name feeling more than a bit reverent on his lips. "Sammy."

**I do not own Supernatural. **

**95/365**

**I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.**


	2. Chapter 2

Dean couldn't stop staring at him. Sam couldn't meet his eyes, focusing instead on some point far away straight ahead of him.

He was dressed in a thin shirt and jeans that had holes in both the knees. He had socks but no shoes and he was trying to keep his feet off of the ground, keeping them on the bench they were sitting on, curling his arms around them. Dean had put his jacket around him to help with the chill.

Sam was playing with the edge of the jacket sleeve, tugging at the loose strands and rolling them between his fingers.

"The sister of God...brought me...here." Sam said slowly, clearing his throat once more. He rubbed at his neck, fingers digging into the area where the rope had all those years ago.

"Yeah." Dean said simply, refusing to even blink despite how his eyes were starting to water. "Fixed her relationship with her brother and she wanted to pay me back."

Sam nodded slowly, as if that made all the sense in the world. "But why me?" he asked. "Why not...mom?"

"She said that I gave her what she needed the most." Dean said, his fingers twitching slightly. "And she wanted to do the same for me."

"Needed the most?" Sam repeated under his breath, his voice was a bit light, barely there. "What you needed the most….was me?"

"Yes." Dean said with no hesitation, it was the complete and utter truth regardless of who else he had lost in his life. His mom, his dad, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, all those friends and family that he lost, none came even close to being put on the same pedestal as his brother. "Yes."

He saw Sam swallowing hard and curling more into himself. "It shouldn't've be me." he mumbled. "Not me, should've been mom."

"Sam," Dean said, the name feeling off putting. He hadn't really said his name that often in all these years, it was something sacred and pure, something he shouldn't blaspheme with and so he didn't want to dirty it and carried it close to his heart, or whatever that thing in his chest still was. He let it rest somewhere deep inside of where it was free from sin and pain in a way he let nothing else be. "Sam, what do you remember?"

Sam flinched and his fingers dug a bit deeper into his neck and that was all the information Dean needed to know the truth. Sam did remember that night, did remember what he had done.

On November 2nd, 1999 Dean had come back to their motel room to see his brothers hanging body, a thick piece of rope tied securely just like their dad had taught them was around his neck and a kicked over stool just inches away.

And by the look on his brothers face he remembered it as well. There was a look of misery on his face and Sam curled up tight onto himself, burying his face in his knees.

"Sam, no Sam." Dean protested, needing to see his brothers face, needing to know that he was in fact alive again by some miracle. He reached out and lightly tugged Sam's face out of his knees and back up. "Sammy."

There were tears in his eyes and with a shaking hand Dean tenderly cupped his brothers face and wiped them away with his thumb.

"It should've been mom." Sam whispered, his breathing hitching slightly at Deans touch. "God's sister should've brought her back to life, not me."

"No." Dean said, keeping his hand where it was to make sure Sam didn't turn away from him again. "Between getting you back and getting mom back, I'd rather have you Sammy. I don't care who she else she offered to bring back I want you. Not mom, not dad, you."

Sam's eyes widened at that last part. "Dads dead?" he sacked, his voice still fallen into a whisper. "He's dead?"

Dean nodded. "About ten years ago." he said. "He and I were hunting the thing that killed mom, it was a demon named Azazel, and dad got killed."

"Oh." Sam whispered, moving enough to wipe at his eyes with his arm. "What...what year is it?"

"2016."

"2016." Sam repeated in a whisper. "So it's been...seventeen years."

Dean nodded and for a moment his hold on Sam tightened slightly. "Why?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Why?"

He didn't need to clarify, Sam's face told him that he immediately knew what Dean was asking and he shook his head, trying to move away to curl up again.

Dean didn't let him, still holding onto his face and not letting go. "Sam. Tell me why." he asked in a pleading voice. "Please, tell me."

In an answer Sam just shook his head once more, small whimpers escaping him as his eyes closed tightly.

"Sam." Dean pleaded, trying to keep his voice steady enough to get the words out. This is what has been eating at him from the inside, what had been the one question he could never find the answer to. "Sam...was it dad?"

Sam shook his head, eyes so tightly shut that it had to hurt.

Then there was only one other thing and it was what Dean hadn't wanted to acknowledge.

Sam knew, that was the only explanation. He knew the truth and it had been so horrible that he needed to get away from Dean in the worst possible way.

Dean had refused to acknowledge it back then, refused to entertain it or even let it take a single root in his mind. He refused it all, not letting himself have one single moment of weakness because he knew that if he did, he was never going to stop and he was never going to do that to his brother.

His baby brother, the little kid that he had helped to raise, that one that looked up at him with wide and loving eyes, a smile on his face as he said his name, his first word. Sam had been his entire world for his whole life, even now.

Dean had been in love with his brother and as a result he had driven Sam to commit suicide.

He thought that he had been able to hide it, he didn't give himself a single thing about it. When his eyes followed Sam after coming out from the shower, bare chested and wet and glistening he always forced himself to stare at whatever he was trying to focus on. When Sam was cleaning and putting weapons together, doing his homework, doing anything that made Sam Sam he had to take care that he wasn't staring for too long.

He immediately stopped hugging, and that had been a sharp knife to his heart from Sams disappointed look, because he didn't trust his hands not to wander. The most he did was to punch Sam's shoulder in affection towards the end.

He tried to find girls that resembled his brother enough at the bars, those with chestnut colored hair, hazel eyes that held all the colors in the world, dimples that deepened with each laugh.

None of them worked, none of them made his heart flutter in his chest, none of them did to him with all their experience in bed that Sam wasn't able to do with just a smile aimed at him.

So he tried his best to swallow his lust and his love and resigned himself to never being satisfied again, content in the simple fact that he had Sam in his life by his side. Content that he could joke around with his brother and watch him light up, watch the thoughtful looks on his face that would make him pout, and be able to hear his breathing in their motel room at night and know that he was safe.

But all of it meant nothing when he came to find his brothers dead body, leaving him to try to maneuver through life without his brother at the very least being alive.

And it had been all his fault.

Sam was shaking, he could feel his brother shaking hard and that brought him back to the present. He swallowed hard, wanting to take his hand away from Sam's face but he couldn't bring himself to do. He had been strong in the past but all these years had chipped away at him and he wanted nothing more than to just wrap his arms around his brother and hold him close.

But that just might make it all worse again, and he might even lose Sam all over again and this time he wouldn't hesitate but to throw himself into hell again, this time he knew he deserved it tenfold. So he just kept his hand around Sam's face and that was it.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Sam was whispering. "I'm sorry, it's all my fault. It's all because of me."

Dean shook his head, bowing his head. "It's not you little brother, its me." he said, feeling himself shake as well. "Its me."

"You don't get it, you can't get it." Sam said his eyes closing tightly once more. "It's me, I'm sick Dean, there's something wrong with me and it's in me and it's...I'm fucked up."

Despite himself Dean couldn't help but give a small laugh, pained and strained as it was. "Sam you're the least fucked up person I've known my entire life."

Sam shook his head hard, coming up to look at him, tears overflowing in his eyes. "You don't get it." he said in a hushed voice. "I...I'm not right Dean I want...it's not..."

Dean moved to wipe at his tears once more, feeling each one strike deep into his soul. "It's not what Sammy?"

Sams breath hitched and he pressed into Deans touch. "It's not normal." he finally said, his voice breaking. "It's not normal...to want my...you. I want you, I've always wanted you." his head bowed. "And not like a brother."

Dean felt his heart stop for a moment and he wanted nothing more than to just tear open his chest and rip the useless thing out of it for all the good it does.

Sam took that momentary silence as damnation because he burst into a fresh wave of tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." he gasped out. "I'm sorry Dean, I tried to fix this, I tried! Please...please don't hate me, please."

He couldn't handle it, couldn't handle seeing the pain his brother was in. Couldn't handle just sitting there and doing nothing.

He didn't know what to say, he didn't know what to do anymore, he didn't know anything other than the fact that his little brother was here alive in his arms, professing something that even in his deepest and most indulgent dreams Dean never even let himself think about.

So he did the only thing he could think of, did the only thing that made the most sense at this time. The only thing that he ever wanted more than anything else in his entire life.

Dean leaned in and kissed his brother on the lips, his other hand coming up to properly cup his face and to just hold him as tenderly and as lovingly as he deserved to be held.

**I do not own Supernatural. **

**96/365**

**I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.**


	3. Chapter 3

Dean didn't think that it was possible to be kissing your brother and not thinking about it.

Especially since it was something he had wanted to do since he was a teenager.

Especially since he knew he'd never get it once his entire life had ended the day that he had found Sams body in the motel room.

Especially since he knew that he'd never be able to reach heaven when he died, his soul was already stained with hell after all, and therefore would never see his brother for the rest of existence.

So now? Now that his baby brother had been brought back to life for him by God's own sister? Now that he had his baby brother back in his arms and in his life?

Now that he knew that Sam had felt the exact same fucking way and for fucks sake they were so stupid back then, they could've had this for years but neither of them had been willing to make that first step.

Dean had resigned himself to never being gratified again and content to just have his brother in his life, he'd never do anything to fuck Sam up and since he thought that there had been no way Sam had wanted that, he'd never cross that line. Never make a single step, never give into a single weakness. Just needing to know his brother was fine was more than enough.

Sam didn't trust himself the same way apparently. He had been terrified not of crossing the line of brothers, but what Dean would do. He also never thought that Dean would be a willing participant, never thought that Dean would feel the same. And so he had taken a different way, not trusting himself, not able to fool himself into thinking that maybe, just maybe Dean felt the same.

Sam had killed himself to make sure that he'd never cross the line between brothers and god Dean wished he could go back in time to force himself to make that first step. If he had it would've saved them so much pain, so much heartache and so much destructive behavior.

Dean Winchester hasn't felt this alive in years and he could give all credit for that to the number one person in his life, even now after all this time and especially now once again, his little brother safe in his arms.

And it felt right, by God or Darkness or hell or heaven it didn't matter anymore, it felt right and it felt like a piece that Dean had always known was missing had finally clicked back into place for him and he never, ever, wanted to let go again. Never wanted to let Sam out of his sight, never wanted to let him out of his arms. Never wanted to stop kissing him.

But they did still need to breathe and regretfully Dean finally pulled away from the kiss but stayed close to Sam, their foreheads pressed together and breathing heavily. When he swallowed it felt like he had a lump in his throat and his broke slightly when he whispered, "Sammy."

Opening his eyes to look at his brother Dean watched as Sam did the same, a multitude of emotions rushing over his face as Sam tried to come to grips with what had happened.

"I don't...I don't..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. There was a hint of tears gathering in Sams eyes and that was unacceptable. Dean's hands came up from his cheeks to wipe at the tears that were already starting to fall. "Dean?"

"Sammy." Dean whispered, the name reverent and precious on his tongue. "Sammy, baby, please don't cry. Please. It's me."

Sam shook his head and Dean felt his heart stop when Sam pulled away from him. He wanted to tighten his grip on him, didn't want to let go, but he knew that Sam must be freaking out about everything and needed a moment, needed some time to come to grips so he let Sam pull away but stayed close to him.

Sam wrapped his arms around himself, his entire body shaking. Dean eyed the fact that Sam was still technically barefoot and made a mental note that he needed to get him more clothes that would fit him a lot better.

"Sammy?" he called out to him, hating how his brother flinched slightly. "Sammy, sweetheart, please talk to me."

Sam licked his lips and looked away, swallowing hard. Dean saw him gripping at his arms even tighter and he couldn't help himself, reaching out to gently take Sams hands into his.

Sam did calm down, Dean felt him steady and stop shaking as he stared down at their entwined hands. After a moment Sam gripped back at him just as tightly.

"Why?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

"Because it's the same for me baby boy." Dean whispered, rubbing his thumb against Sams knuckles. "God I've been...I've wanted you for years. Hated myself for loving you like that, never thought you'd even want to look at me again if you knew."

"That's my line." Sam said weakly, voice cracking and breaking and Dean felt his heart crack along with it. "I couldn't...I couldn't live with it anymore...I couldn't..."

"I know, I know." Dean murmured, unable to keep himself from leaning down the rest of the way and brushing his lips against Sams. He felt Sam let out a small breath of air and then pressed closer into the kiss.

"I'm here Sammy." Dean murmured, letting go of Sams hands to wrap his arms around him instead. "I'm here. I'm never going to go anywhere, never again."

**I do not own Supernatural. **

**268/365**

**I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.**


	4. Chapter 4

Dean started to lead them back to the bunker. They got onto a road and street and Dean hotwired the first car he saw for them. Sam stayed by his side the entire time, despite the look on his face that he was about to bolt at any second.

The sun was slowly rising as they drove, just hours ago it had been dying and there it was again, strong and warm. Dean couldn't help himself from reaching out to take Sam's hand in his.

It took Sam a moment but then he gripped back.

The kid wasn't just fresh from dead, he was still from his own time where he couldn't handle what he was feeling and as a result internalized everything until it overcame and destroyed him.

Dean had something Sam hadn't, time. He had time with his emotions and desires and worst of all, he had time alone. Alone in the world without the brother he loved so damn much.

Sam had no time to get over his internalized shame. Dean had the time to destroy it with his mourning.

He tightened his grip on Sam's hand, almost afraid to let go. Sam wasn't looking at him, he was looking out the window in wonder as the world woke up, but he held onto Deans hand tighter.

Dean drove them to the first thrift store he could remember that was in Lebanon. Thankfully it opened early in the morning and they were able to go in. Dean didn't want to leave Sams side, all but reaching out and holding onto his arm as they walked. He barely restrained himself from doing so and just settled for trailing closely next to him as Sam moved over the racks.

The first thing they got him was a pair of sneakers, Sam had been in the middle of a growth spurt when he had killed himself, and Dean remembered how much Sam would grumble either in pain or annoyance when none of his clothes fit anymore.

Dean grabbed them a pair of sneakers and socks which Sam gratefully put on, flexing his feet for a moment. They quickly gathered him a small selection of various other clothes, he pulled the jacket on immediately, and bought everything.

They drove the rest of the way to the bunker and parked the car in the garage, not getting out yet as Sam looked around.

"You live here? In a bunker?" Sam asked, turning his body to face Dean who had reached out to take his hand once more.

"Yeah, its underground and everything." Dean told him, entwining their fingers together. "It's actually from our grandfather, he belonged to a thing called the Men of Letters and he time traveled to escape a demon. Ended up dying by the demon but gave me the key to the place."

Sam looked dubious but didn't say anything about that absolute insanity. "Guess it makes about as much sense as being brought back to life by God's sister." he finally said.

Dean smiled at him, the action was almost foreign to him but it was slowly coming back to him, and squeezed his hand. "Guess so." he said softly. "But it's safe, it's one of the safest places in the world. And it's filled with things and books."

Sam brightened at the mention of books and Deans smile widened, he had kept all of Sam's old books in the impala's trunk, never being able to bring himself to move them or, worse, throw them out.

"It's pretty big, lots of rooms." Dean said, rubbing his thumb against Sam's hand. "You're going to love it."

"It's a home." Sam said simply. "Sounds like it anyway, and that's...that's kinda what I always wanted to have with you." his eyes widened then. "Is the impala okay?" he quickly asked.

Dean laughed, it was rough and out of tune, he hadn't laughed that much for years, but it came to him and relaxed him, making everything okay. "The impalas fine." he assured him, warmed at the knowledge of how much Sam really cared about the car. "She's in the garage, she's fine."

Sam nodded, a sad look on his face. "You said that dad was dead." he said softly. "What...when did that happen?"

Dean hesitated, letting out a deep breath. "It happened in 2006." he said. "We were hunting a demon, the demon that killed mom, and it got us into a car accident. I was laid up at the hospital and dad sold his soul to save me." he never mentioned it but he was sure that dad couldn't handle being the only one left of the four of them.

John Winchester had already had to burn one sons body, he'd rather damn himself to hell than burn the other one.

Sam blinked rapidly and turned his head, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "Oh." he whispered. "And...mom was killed by a demon?"

"Yeah." Dean said, tightening his grip on his hand. "His name was Azazel and I killed him."

Sam smiled at that, turning back to him. "I have a lot to catch up on, don't I?" he asked, only half rhetorically.

Dean nodded. "Let's get you settled, pick out a room. Get some food in you and maybe a shower." he said. "Then I'll tell you everything that's happened."

Sam nodded, just staring at him and letting out a deep breath. "Okay." he whispered, hand shaking but still gripping at Deans hand.

Dean smiled once more, unable to keep from doing so. He also couldn't help himself from leaning over and brushing his lips against Sams. It took a moment but Sam relaxed into the kiss as well.

"C'mon, lets get inside." Dean murmured against Sams lips, kissing him one more time and just marveling at the feeling and the knowledge that he could now.

Sam nodded and grabbed their bags, sliding out of the car and following Dean, looking around in wonder. Dean pointed out a few rooms as they passed as they came upon the main room.

"Hello, hello." came a British voice. Dean immediately was on alert and Sam stepped back, keeping to the shadows of the hallway and staying out of view.

Dean tried to move forward, trying to get to the table where he kept a gun strapped to the underside of it when he heard a gun cock at him and he stopped, turning to glare at the woman.

"Don't." she warned him, a small smug tone to her voice. Hated coursed through him and he slowly moved to straighten up, glaring at him. From the corner of his eye he could see Sam slowly move back and away, going to the other room they had passed.

Another different way to get into the main room without anyone seeing them.

"Dean Winchester." the woman intoned, keeping the gun on him. "Toni Bevell. Men of Letters, London Chapterhouse."

Dean narrowed his eyes at that. "Thought all the letters were killed off." he said lowly, hands all but shaking in desire to shoot her.

"Oh, you won't have heard of me—us." Toni said, her voice taking an almost mocking lecture tone. "We're very traditional. Keep out of the way, keep to our studies."

She smirked at him, eyes glittering slightly. "They sent me to take you in."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "To take me in?" he repeated. "Take me in."

"Assuming the world didn't end, and— Yay." she smiled at him once more and it nowhere reached her eyes.

Dean didn't say anything, moving his jaw from side to side and hoping that Sam would find the right way, and more overall, to find one of the many weapons that Dean had stashed around the bunker.

"We've been watching you, Dean." Toni continued. "What you've done, the damage you've caused—archangels, Leviathans, the Darkness, and now, well— the old men have decided enough's enough."

She smirked, it almost looked like she couldn't decide between a condescending smile or smirk, alternating between the two as she almost was vibrating with excitement.

"I mean, let's face it, Dean." and there was the condensation again. "You're just a jumped-up hunter playing with things you don't understand and doing more harm than good."

"You don't know a damn thing about me." Dean said lowly, warningly.

"Oh I know all about you." Toni said, keeping the gun aimed at him. "Now. You're going to come with me, I have more than a few people that really wish to...speak with you."

"I'm not going anywhere." Dean told her, not looking away despite the small shadow that was creeping closer to her.

"You seem to be under the impression that you have a choice." Toni said patronizingly. "Now come, or else I will have to force you."

That was all that they needed and Sam shot forward from the shadows, having the dark and the surprise on his side. He moved quickly, grabbing her wrists from behind, kicking the inside of her knees to force her to her knees, and grabbing the gun from her before she could even move and pressing the barrel to the side of her head.

Dean came forward as well, grabbing one of the guns from under the table and aiming it at her.

"Like I said." he said lowly, enjoying her new glare at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

**I do not own Supernatural. **

**275/365**

**I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Thought you said that this was one of the safest places in the world." Sam said dryly as he watched Dean handcuff and muzzle the woman into a chair in the dungeon.

"Shut up." Dean grumbled, tightening the cuffs on her as she glared at him. He rolled his eyes at that. "You can stop with that superiority complex, you broke into our home."

A sneer appeared on her face at that, her eyes blaze with hatred and disgust. When her eyes went to Sam however Dean stepped in front of her vision, reaching out to grip at her chin tight enough to be just a bit painfully.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do." he said lowly. "You're worlds gonna get real small right now, you're going to focus on me and only me. You're going to answer my questions and then you're going to shut up." his eyes narrowed when she rolled hers and tightened his grip, feeling her breath in sharply. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you learn that in time."

"Dean?" he could hear Sam's voice, it almost sounded far away and it took him a moment to focus, turning his head to look at his brother, freezing when he saw the look of fear on his face.

Swallowing hard Dean straightened up, letting go of Tonis face. He turned himself so that he could look at Sam completely. "Sammy." he murmured. "Mind going outside kiddo?"

Sam's eyes were wide and he was trembling slightly, eyes going from Dean to Toni and back again. "What are you going to do to her?" he asked, his voice shaking just ever so slightly.

Dean hated that, hated how Sam was reacting. Ignoring Toni he came forward and gently took Sam's hand, feeling a part of him die when Sam flinched at his touch for a moment before letting himself be led out of the dungeon and into the hallway. Dean pulled the bookcase and the door closed behind them.

"Sammy, maybe you should go up to the front, get something to eat, learn a bit about the place." Dean suggested to him, letting go of Sam's hand more for his benefit than wanting to let go. "Please."

Sam wrapped his arms around himself, looking up at Dean with something that he couldn't read. "Dean, what are you going to do to her?" he repeated.

Dean hesitated. "What I have to." he finally said.

Sam shook his head, shaking slowly spreading along his body. "Why?" he whispered.

"Because I need answers." Dean told him. "She broke into a place that should be awarded against everyone and everything. I can count on one hand how many people I brought in here and I'd have fingers left over." he looked towards where he had left her. "She threatened me and made it clear that there are a lot more people out there that have the same idea. I need to know more and this is the only way she'll tell me."

"You're talking about torture." Sam whispered, and now he was shaking completely. "Dean...this is...she's a human being, you can't do that."

Dean sighed and rubbed at his eyes, looking away, unable to loko his brother in the eyes anymore. "Not like its my first time doing this." he said softly. Even with his head turned he could see the shock on Sams face.

"What the hell." Sam whispered, his voice breaking. "Dean...what the hell..."

"Sam, a lot of crap happened ever since you...ever since you killed yourself." Dean said, unable to bring himself to look his brother in the eyes anymore. "I know that your lsat memory of me is when I was twenty-one, dad wasn't letting me hunt on my own, and a hell of a lot more nicer and softer to people."

He shook his head. "But I'm not that same person anymore. I'm not that Dean anymore. I've been to hell kiddo, literally, I'm not being coy or symbolic. I went to hell for four months and four months on earth means forty years down there."

Dean did look down at his hands, fingers curling slightly. "I'm stained in blood kiddo, in every single way. I've been alone in this world for ten years and trust me Sammy, the man that came out of all that? It ain't even close to the brother you remember, the brother that you loved."

"I have to protect you Sam, no matter what. I got my second chance to be your older brother again." he swallowed hard. "Even if after this you never want to see me or have anything to do with me ever again, I get it. But I promised you the safest place in the world, this bunker." he lightly punched the wall of the bunker. "And all of a sudden I find this bitch in here, breaking and saying that there's others."

"I don't give a damn what I have to do, and I'm sure that at the end of it you're never going to want to see me again, you're going to hate me, or have anything to do with me ever again, and trust me I'll understand." he finally looked up at his brother who was staring back at him. "But I will damn myself to hell if I don't protect you in every single way that I can."

"I'm already drenched in blood little brother." Dean said softly. "And for you? I'll gladly bathe in it over and over again to keep you safe."

Taking a deep breath Dean nodded to himself and straightened up. "You saw where the kitchen was, there's food and stuff there, help yourself, explore the place. I'll come back to you when I'm done. If you want me to."

Nothing else surprised him more than when Sam suddenly shot forward, wrapping his arms around Deans body. Dean didn't bother to try to fight it or try to understand it, he just immediately wrapped his arms around his little brother and held onto him tightly.

Sam was still shaking slightly but as Dean continued to hold him, slowly bit by bit, the shaking stopped.

"I can never hate you." Sam whispered, clinging to him tightly, Dean could feel his hands holding onto the back of his shirt tightly. "Never, no matter what."

"I don't want you to see this part of me Sammy." Dean whispered, tucking Sam under his chin and holding him as close as he could, the safest place that he could keep him.

Sam just shook his head, pressing even closer if that was even possible.

"I love you." he could barely hear him whisper. "Dean...you're...you're everything to me." the words warmed him and made him relax. He felt Sam take a deep breath. "And I want...I want to know everything about you, every part."

"Sammy." Dean started to whisper.

Sam just shook his head, looking up at Dean with wide, slightly scared, but determined eyes. "I want to know every part of you." he repeated. "No matter what part it is."

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	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: Non-explicit torture of a character.**

True to Sams word and unspoken promise he stayed in the dungeon with Dean the entire time. He was leaning against the wall watching, not blinking, refusing to look away despite how pale he got and despite the look on his face that made it clear that he was about to throw up.

It took some time and it took a lot of patience, patience that Dean only had in this situation. It was like coming home, a thought he was firmly ignoring and pushing down as deep as he could. Knife in his hand, his front covered in blood. Blood was caking under his nails and staining his skin but everything was steady, everything was precise.

It was like Alistair had said, all those years ago, everyone had their point and with a lot of patience and a lot of precision, that point would eventually be found.

Toni managed to hold out for a while, terror dancing in her eyes despite her holier than thou attitude and look on her face. He had removed the fabric from her mouth to give her a chance to speak and give him what he wanted but when she spat at him he just shoved it back into her mouth and got to work.

It was almost zen like, meditative in a way that he was sure wasn't supposed to even be close to each other in a list. It was erasing everything else around him and made it easier to focus on her and only on her and what he needed to do. A part of him even missed it and relished the chance to perform such an art once again.

It took about two and a half hours of diligent and meticulous work with his knife. His wrist cramped after the first hour and he changed it to a different blade with a more comfortable handle and a curved blade that was thin enough that she didn't even realize that it was carving into her until it was deep.

She started squirming pretty quickly but his hand kept her in place on her seat, knife dancing over her skin and blood. She flinched back about thirty-three minutes in, her body shaking but stubbornly refusing to say anything.

She started to scream shortly into an hour and about tenish minutes into it. The screams were muffled due to the cloth but it still managed to echo in the dungeon and made Sam flinch. He had moved to cover his ears but slowly brought it down, looking sick to his stomach.

Dean didn't let him think about Sam that too much despite everything, he just couldn't give into that weakness because if he did, if he focused on Sam and that Sam was seeing what he was doing, he would falter and wouldn't be able to continue and he couldn't allow that just yet. He needed answers and this was the only way that he could get them.

He knew he was a monster, he didn't need to be told to him or confirmed. He accepted it without an argument.

He could live with it.

She finally broke a little over two hours into it, whimpering and head hanging downwards. She had started to cry a while ago but her eyes were dry now, no more tears left to cry and throat ripped to shreds from her screams. But she still managed to speak and she still managed to tell him what he wanted to hear about the rest of the British Men of Letters.

Especially that they were going to come for her and that they would be on the offense for the fact that he had tortured one of theirs. Never mind the fact that she broke into his home and pointed a gun, threatening him with it, he had retaliated and therefore he needed to be taken out.

There were more questions to be asked but he thought he had done enough for tonight at the least. He wrapped bandages around her haphazardly and pressed an iv into her to keep her alive before he gently tugged Sam out of the room, the kid seemed to have pressed and all but melted into the wall, eyes unseeing and not fighting as Dean moved him away.

Dean wrapped an arm around his brothers shoulders, taking care not to get blood on him as he led the way to the front kitchen. His movements were gentle as he helped Sam into the chair and went to the sink, turning it on and focusing on washing the blood off of his hands and arms. He grabbed the dishsoap and rubbed it into the skin as he tried to get the stains off.

Sam wasn't saying anything and he wasn't moving, just staring at the tabletop from where Dean had helped him to sit in. His hands were shaking on his lap, the only movement he had. Dean turned around to face him, leaning back against the counter and just stared at his brother.

"I told you." he finally said, breaking the silence. "You weren't going to like what you saw."

Sam blinked and slowly brought his head up, looking at Dean with an unreadable expression on his face. "I didn't think like that." he managed to whisper out.

"Not much other way it could've gone." Dean said simply. "I'm good at what I do, but what I do isn't good."

Sam just stared at him, taking a deep breath, shifting in his seat and fidgeting, biting his lip hard enough that Dean was afraid for a moment that he was going to bleed.

Before thinking about it he crossed the way and kneeled in front of his brother, reaching out to cup his cheek and gently pull his lip free with his thumb.

Sam didn't flinch away from his touch, in fact he pressed into his hand, his own coming up to grip at Deans at his cheek.

His touch was gentle as his other hand came up, stroking at Sam's cheek tenderly, reverently. His thumbs softly slid over his cheekbones, his lips, down to his neck, shoulders, and arms.

Sam moved so that he could grip at Deans hands, the shaking slowly going away the longer that Dean held onto him.

"Sam." Dean whispered. "No matter what you saw there, no matter what I did. I'd never hurt you."

"I know." Sam whispered back, staring at his brother. He breathed out heavily when Dean leaned in close enough to press their foreheads together. "I know Dean."

Dean breathed out slowly, just holding onto his brother, savoring his warmth and his general being. Sam looked him in the eye and then he moved the rest of the way, the first one to make the move this time, and brushed his lips against Deans.

Dean smiled into the kiss, hands moving up to cup Sam's face as they kissed. He remained kneeling in front of his brother and just gently kissed him, savoring the almost cleansing feeling of this compared to the last two and a half hours.

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	7. Chapter 7

His vessel was on earth.

The knowledge, the grace deep borne knowledge filled him entirely making the lips of his vessel part in a combination of surprise and bliss. He stumbled forward, gripping the wood in front of him much to the concern of the parish.

He had found it amusing to convince priests to be his temporary vessels before he burns them out. All it took was a flash of wings and a whisper of prayer and the priests all but fell to their knees, begging to be his vessel.

He left out a few details that they didn't need to know and relished in their screams in the back of their vessel as they realized just what they had agreed to do.

He amused himself in giving sermons, twisting words and listening to confessions as he coaxed them to do more. They were simple-minded and stupid sheep that looked for anyone else to take control of their lives. And then there were the people that reveled in sin, blanketed themselves in the agony of others and then came crying, begging for forgiveness and empty promises of never harming another again. He was doing them a favor by showing them who they really were. Not even above insects and undeserving of the freewill that his father had given them.

He thought that when he managed to convince groups of them to slit their own throats, blood staining the thin paper of the bible he was just giving them what they deserved, a fitting end for them to awaken in Hell.

Suicide is still a sin, through and through.

But even that was staring to bore him and this was going to be the last one, maybe he would end it with the priest burning in front of them as he went to search for a new temporary vessel.

Because that was his existence, jumping from one body to another. The closest one that had managed to house him was Castiels vessel and that was only because his grace managed to heal the burns and even then only temporarily. If he had stayed longer, the less Castiel's grace would've been able to negate his and both vessel and angel would be burned out from existence.

His vessel had been taken from him years before he had been freed, taken and in a place that he couldn't reach so he had to settle for another weak blooded link, Nick. He managed to strengthen the vessel with demon blood enough until he met with Michael, also in his not true vessel, and then Dean Winchester who had managed to put the both of them into the cage with the help of Death.

But now...now he felt it. He felt that his real, one true vessel was on earth again. He didn't question it, he didn't try to understand the why. None of that mattered, the only important thing that he needed was that his vessel was living and breathing on earth once more.

His grip on the wooden altar tightened to the point that it crumbled in his hands, heat filling his vision as he felt the priests body start to burn.

He ignored the screams from the humans, all insignificant and unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

A vessel was sacred to the angel, especially the archangels. Regular seraphs weren't so strong to destroy the body of the human they housed. It was an archangels power, their grace, that was dangerous, teaming with life from the touch of their father and edges of his sister.

But the archangel vessel, that was something more rare than rarity. Powerful and consuming, able to house one of gods most consecrated creations. Damn whatever the Levithans believed, the archangels were still above them.

He was powerful, he was the second-born forged in the heart of the first star that god had created, second only to his brother by mere millimeters that didn't exist on a human plane. Especially now that the angels were all but destroyed, Michael locked away, and Gabriel and Raphael dead, he was the single most powerful creation still on earth.

But with his true vessel? With the vessels soul that was meant to be a mirror of of his grace, amplifying him in every way?

He would easily be twice as powerful then. No one would be even remotely close to be able to overpower him in anyway.

Uncaring of the humans he left them all, leaving the priests body a mess of charred bones and remains, as he threw himself into the air, curling with the winds as he tried to narrow down where he was being guided.

There was something blocking him, he could feel his vessel but almost through a haze that he couldn't pass through, couldn't push it aside to focus on the vessel.

His screams of frustration could only be heard on a higher plane reserved only for angels.

His wings beat against the realms, clawing and groping as he tried to find a hint of where to go, how far he had to go in order to find the one human meant for him, the one gift from his father that he couldn't rebuff.

He forced himself to calm down, tried to think clearly as best as he could in this situation. He landed on earth as best as he could in his situation, his mere presence burning through the ground as he took a few moments to focus.

He had been patient this entire time, he could be patient just a little longer if it meant obtaining his true vessel.

But rest assured, he will find him, he will have him say yes, he will possess his one true vessel as it should have been all those years ago.

No matter what he had to do.

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	8. Chapter 8

Sam stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. This one room was bigger than some of the motels he had stayed in and quite frankly, it almost seemed too big.

It was ironic, that after years of living in motels wishing that he had a real room to call his own, and now he got it in a roundabout way, he was missing the motel. He missed the constant noise, he missed the sound of someone else behind the thin walls.

He missed his dad, despite all the fighting that they had done in the last few months they had been together, Sam had never stopped loving him and no matter what was said or done, he knew that his dad was the same. And the thought that the last time he had seen his dad was when they had had a huge fight and he'd never be able to apologize for it because, as Dean said, he was dead? It made him want to throw up and miss his dad all the more.

But most of all, he missed his Dean.

He didn't have a right to complain or say anything, he remembered his last few moments the last time he was...alive. He remembered tying the rope and sliding it around his neck, remembered taking the last step and how hard it felt to breathe before it went dark and he opened his eyes in the park where Dean had found him.

He had committed suicide, he didn't have the right to say anything other than being thankful for a second chance.

But at the same time...this didn't feel like a second chance. It almost felt like a punishment.

Maybe this was hell after all, maybe this was the punishment for committing suicide, being with...this version of Dean.

He just...he couldn't really…

He had committed suicide to save his brother from himself, to save Dean from his own feelings that he had that were unbrotherly towards him.

But then it was revealed that his brother felt the same way, that Dean wanted him just as much as he wanted Dean.

All those years wasted that Sam hated himself, the pain of suicide, it all could've been avoided. And he could've gotten his brother, not...this man he had instead.

The man that he wasn't even sure if he was his brother.

There was almost nothing about him that reminded him of the brother he had known. He didn't sound anything like Dean, didn't act like him, the mere basics of how soft and gentle he was with Sam was the only indication that it was in fact Dean.

But the show he had watched just a few hours ago, what Dean had done to that lady...there was no words for it. He had tortured her, plain and simple. He hadn't even realized just how much blood a person could lose and not go unconscious.

This man was rough and tough, Sam had half expected him to insist that Sam sleep in his room and not take no for an answer. He tried not to show it but...he was terrified of him.

Even in this room, with Deans just two doors down, he didn't feel safe. Felt almost like the man was going to come in at any moment to drag Sam to his own room.

He closed his eyes and turned onto his side, reaching to grip the pillow. Despite the heat in the room he felt oddly cold and he couldn't stop shaking, curling up into a ball and covering himself with the blanket.

He just couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that his brother, his loving, caring, and soft brother, soft despite the hunting life, the person that he had fallen in love with turning into...this person.

He was different when he looked at Sam but that was it, the only reason he hadn't tried to run away, other than knowing that this man could capture him if he tried, but it was the look in his eyes. He recognized that look, recognized the same love that he had seen in his brother's eyes.

Those eyes were the only thing that was the same as before and it calmed him down, helped him to remain in place.

Helped him to believe that this was in fact his brother.

But other than that, he had no idea what to think, or furthermore, what to do. He didn't know what his place was here anymore than he had known back then. He was too scared to even suggest anything to Dean, he was scared to leave his room, he was scared to do anything.

Taking a deep breath Sam tried to relax, closing his eyes. The entire bunker was so quiet, there was nothing to listen to, not even the plumbing.

He couldn't do it, he couldn't fall asleep, not like this.

Sighing Sam sat up again, looking around the room blearily before he chanced it and slid out of his bed, breath catching as if the moment his feet hit the ground Dean will come in.

Nothing happened and he was being ridiculous. He couldn't remain like this, afraid to take even a single step. That's not how John Winchester had raised his boys.

Clutching the blanket with him and moving carefully and light on his feet Sam opened the door, sliding into the hallway. He froze for a moment, listening carefully, and then padded on, not one hundred percent sure where he was going. He kept walking, passing by the rooms that he barely remembered what they were, Dean had told him but he hadn't been paying that much attention.

Ultimately, his feet led him to the garage and he blinked, relaxing as he realized why.

Because there was the first home he remembered, the number one aspect in his life other than his brother.

The Impala stood there, gleaming under the low lights, still strong and beautiful and calming. Sam crossed the garage, reaching out to touch her cool metal exterior. He smiled, letting his hands slide over the door.

"Hey." he breathed out, reaching to open the backdoor and climbing in, gathering the blanket with him. "Remember me?"

There was no answer, of course there wasn't, but he relaxed nonetheless. He curled up in the backseat, wrapping the blanket around him, as he laid down on the seats. It was dark in the back, it was cool enough that he needed the blanket, and he admit it, it was slightly cramped for him to be in.

He easily fell asleep, cradled in the first home he'd ever known.

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	9. Chapter 9

"It's not like I went that far away, I was in the garage." Sam said, clutching his cup to try to hide just how much his hands were shaking.

"I woke up and you were gone! What the hell am I supposed to think?" Dean demanded, his voice rising with almost each word. "We just had a break-in here Sammy! I thought I was about to die when I saw you were gone!"

"I was in the garage with the impala." Sam defended himself. "It's not like I left the bunker completely."

"For all I knew someone came in and grabbed you!" Dean shouted back, either not noticing or not caring about how minutely Sam flinched back from the shouts. "You can't just get up and go anywhere you want when we're in the middle of a break-in like this!"

"What are you going to do? Lock me in my room? Handcuff me to your wrist?" Sam shot back. "Dean calm down!"

"I'm not going to calm down because you have no idea what's going on here!" Dean shouted. "Things have changed here Sam, a hell of a lot has changed since you've been gone."

"Then tell me!" Sam managed to shout back at him. He was used to yelling at their dad, always finding something else to fight about. He'd admit it now but he sometimes looked to pick those fights because at times it seemed like the only times that John actually took to have something to do with his youngest son. "Tell me what's going on! Where are we? What the hell is this bunker? Who is that lady?"

Dean shot him a look and for a moment Sam thought that they were back at a motel and he was having another argument with his dad. Dean looked very much like their father and it made Sam's breath catch in his throat.

He cleared it and glared back at his brother, his brother he had to remind himself a few times. This was his brother and he loved him and vice versa.

"You were just brought back to life." Dean told him. "There's too much to tell you all at once. I need to deal with this whole thing and then I can tell you."

Oh that, that was familiar. That could've been taken straight from their dad. Look after Sammy. Don't tell him anything about this. I'll tell you later.

He knew from experience that later never came. He had to go and dig for himself to get what he wanted. Had to dig for dad's journal, had to sneak around Bobby's house to listen, had to do everything he had to to find out something about their lives.

Dean, back then, had tried his best but at the same time had always listened to their dad. Never told Sam anything despite all his questions. Never took his side when dad was saying that it was time to go but Sam wanted to stay.

So, Sam straightened up and glared back at his brother as much as he could despite how much he was shaking inside. "Yes sir." he spat out.

Dean flinched back as if Sam had struck him, staring at his younger brother incredulously. "What?"

"You heard me." Sam said, trying to steady himself and keep himself from shaking. "You want to act like dad, I'll treat you like dad. Yes sir."

There was a mess of emotions on Dean's face, rushing and going through each one rapidly. He breathed out slowly and seemed to compose himself.

"Dad had a lot of faults." Dean said slowly. "But he was trying to protect us as best as he could back then. He fucked up a lot and fucked us up, but he was doing his best with the crap that he was given."

Sam breathed out slowly. "Well now I know you're Dean, you're still defending him even now."

"What are you talking about, 'now that you know I'm Dean'?" he half demanded. "When weren't you sure?"

"This whole time." Sam told him, willing himself not to shake. "This whole damn time because you're acting more like our dad than my brother."

"Dad never forgave himself after what you did." Dean told him. "He blamed himself until the day he died."

"Doesn't change the fact that the both of you never told me anything, that you always kept me in the dark as much as you could." Sam shot at him. "Just like now. Not telling anything isn't going to help me, it's going to make things worse."

Whatever he was about to say, something started to play music in the room. Sam looked around, stopping when Dean pulled out something from his pocket where the music was coming from. Sam could see there was a screen of some sort but couldn't make out any of the words on them. Dean shot him a warning look and then turned to leave the room, bringing the device up to his ear and saying in a low voice, "Yeah?"

Sam closed his eyes and moved his head from side to side, cracking his neck. His hands came up to rub at his temples, letting out a deep breath. He leaned back against the nearest wall.

He hated this. He hated all of this.

But most of all...he couldn't believe that this was his brother. That this was the same Dean that he had known and loved. He couldn't believe it.

He didn't want to believe it.

But did he have any other choice? Did he have any other option but to believe that this was Dean? And what other choice did he have but to trust him?

This was a whole new time for him, he needed time to get used to the whole thing and maybe...maybe he could find his brother somewhere in this man that claimed to be him.

He just...he couldn't trust him. He had no idea how to.

But he had to. Despite everything this was his brother, he was supposed to be able to trust him.

Shouldn't he?

"Sam. How sure are you that you can trust this man that calls himself your brother?"

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Also none of this is meant to be John Winchester hate, just so you guys know.


	10. Chapter 10

The vessel is always in tune with its respective angel and vice versa.

Lucifer knew exactly where his vessel was, he knew the place that it was in. Michael's vessel bunker, there was no other place for them to be.

The problem was, he had no idea where it was.

He had been there, stayed there for a few days when his father and he worked together to try to destroy the Darkness. He remembered walking the halls and he remembered leaving.

And that was the problem, the moment he left he immediately forgot where he had been and where the hunters had made their station. Even if he took himself apart to the mere molecules he wouldn't be able to name even the state that the place was in.

But he had one benefit, he was always and intimately connected to his vessel. It's his, the one gift that he won't deny himself of from his father, made and crafted specifically for him.

His and his alone.

His father had created a mess of beings, these simple minded, sheep that he considered above them for some reason. Walking among them did nothing to change his mind. They were sinful things that only cared about themselves, burying themselves in indulgences and transgressions.

The only one worth a single thing was his vessel, the rest could rot.

He could feel the vessel through the wards, not as much as he should be able to but enough. Enough to feel the barest bit of emotions and thoughts.

And just enough to be able to whisper into its ear.

He couldn't really control the words or what he was saying. All he could do was press his grace as much as he could through the wardings and feed off of whatever emotions his vessel was feeling. He could feel the distrust and the fear rolling off of him almost physically.

So he fed off of that, letting his grace seep into his vessel as much as he could despite feeling the pushing back of the wards. Whenever he tried to push back, trying to force his way past the runes it shot back, pain filtering through his being.

So he took another vessel, and then another, and another. He burned through them quickly but the added disability of temporarily having a human body helped him to push past them, let him just add a bit more of himself into the whispers into his vessel's ears.

He wasn't sure what the vessel's problems were and he didn't care, anything that made that fear and uncertainty grow was good enough for him. Anything to get the vessel to leave that lair and out of the wards so that Lucifer could finally get to it.

He just needed time, time to whisper enough into the vessel's head, time to pull it away from everything until all it could turn to was him.

He'd make sure of it.

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**Short but to the point. **


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